Pandora's Box
by Greyish-Silver Skies
Summary: Tom makes it extremely hard for Hermione to keep her secrets hidden away. Tomione but its non-magical and extremely extremely AU (obviously). Honestly its barely even Harry Potter I just borrowed (my impression of) the characters from JK (thank you) and made them do what I want. Please don't skip over this story because of the pairing. (Sorry for practically writing an AN here)


**Pandora's Box**

They meet in a library of all places (but where else could it be really). He grabs the book just a split second after she wraps her slim fingers around the spine. She keeps a firm grasp on it, determined to keep the book (it's finder's keepers after all). She doesn't see the darkness that flashes over his face when she won't give (ignores it really, tries not to see how attractive it was). She wins the argument and keeps the book but she feels like she's lost something bigger when she agrees to coffee.

It's only coffee she tells herself, but the thought feels like a lie because he is extremely intelligent (almost painfully so), the first person she's ever met who can keep up with, possibly even outpace her & something inside her has craved this conversation desperately all her life. Hermione soaks in his words, bathes in the luxurious feel of an intelligent conversation but his voice can't quite drown out the rattling box sitting deep in the dark alcoves of her mind.

"My name's Tom by the way", and she catches the slight smirk when she comments on her parent's love of Shakespeare (she thinks she knows how a mouse feels when its caught in the eyes of a snake when he smirks at her like that).

Tom is beautiful, tall and slender with cheekbones that could she could cut herself on (not that she wants to, she doesn't like pain, she really doesn't). He's witty and there's something cruel about the slant of his mouth. Hermione thinks if she were at all artistic she would be happy to sit all day and draw how the light and shadows contrast on his face. But it's his eyes that really catch her, they're like the sea during a storm, dark and deep and deceptively inviting (or maybe it's just her who always feels tempted to jump into the darkness). Everything about him reminds her of a patient predator but she ignores her senses, ignores how he somehow smells like cut glass and raging fires to her. She tells herself that she's always been a flowers and wood fires kind of girl, and anyway cut glass doesn't even have a smell (but it does it smells like Tom). She can't hear any rattling, she's a good girl she doesn't have secrets (She really doesn't, she swears).

Tom courts her with books and challenges and lust filled evenings and Hermione tries not to wonder how those tiny shrews Crookshanks kills feel when he plays with them. (She bets they feel powerless but _so so alive_ ). She would hate to be prey it must be awful (boxes can't laugh can they?)

They first kiss back in the library, hard books pressed into her back as she tries to inhale the essence of him and a shelf shaped bruise blossoms just above her pelvis days later. Tom bites her lips and she moans into him, the slight taste of copper overwhelmed by the fire in her belly, the pleasure-pain of his hands knotted in her hair.

The sex is phenomenal of course, Tom's mouth is like a razor cutting through her skin to set her nerves on fire and her voice seems permanently hoarse from his determination to make her scream every night (in any way possible). He leaves bruises littering her body, mottled yellow circles on her shoulders lined with perfectly shaped crimson bite marks, green ringed purple galaxies circling her wrists. She hides the tender skin away under long sleeves and collared blouses, tries to forget they're there (tries to forget how much she loved them, loves them still).

She hardly notices a change in her life when she moves in with him, she'd barely seen her own apartment in months. She still has her own life of course, makes time to see Harry and Ron, finally not caring about the spectacle that was Lavender and Ron's 'relationship' (and tries not to notice how little interest she has in the conversation, how unintelligent these people are).

Her friends don't like Tom, they're constantly trying to persuade her that he's no good, reminding her of the rumours they've all heard about him and his friends. She tells them they're being ridiculous, that Tom and his friends are perfectly normal. And she tells herself that it's just a coincidence that the time she spends with her friends happens to coincide with Tom's meetings with his own. (Followers he calls them and she laughs, pretends he's joking and locks away another secret.)

Tom's friends smell like cheap whiskey and violence and she tells herself that she hates the odour of danger that clings to them. (On Tom it smells like cold steel and fire, she'd live off his scent if she could).

"Remember Cedric, remember Myrtle?" Of course she remembers but what does it matter, Tom had nothing to do with it even if she can't claim the same for his friends. (She doesn't actually care what he does anymore but they don't need to know that and she tries to forget it). She's long since stopped caring about any imperfections Tom may have (and it's getting harder and harder to pretend that she does).

The box is shaking and shaking, more secrets spilling out every day as she desperately tries to shove them back in. She asks Tom to go over her thesis with her, pretends not to know why he finds the idea of her studying criminal justice so amusing. She's so settled and happy in this life, her life of secrets with Tom but she can't shake the feeling that something big is looming, something unwanted and inescapable and it's going to change everything.

And then one day the meeting isn't planned, she can't escape the apartment, can't hide from what's happening in her home. A deal went wrong and Greyback is bleeding from a gunshot wound on the blue rug with ducks on it that she bought for their bathroom. Tom is furious that they've fucked this up, that they've dragged this mess into his life with her. It's never been more apparent that he really is their leader as he orders them about coldly and she thinks it's only her that hears the slight wildness beneath his usual wintery tone. Her breath catches when he turns to glance at her as she stands there frozen and she sees the barely masked terror in his eyes. Tom is never afraid, Tom is never anything but calm & collected and constantly sarcastic so Hermione never knew how beautiful he was when he fell apart before now.

She never knew how powerful knowing that someone loved you could feel either, knowing that the thought of you leaving could cause them such raw pain and fear made your head rush & transformed you from prey into another predator. Tom's gasp of relief when she strode over to him and kissed him harshly turned out to be the key to the Pandora's box in her head. Hermione's secrets shot out and bounced around her head while Greyback bled on the rug and Malfoy and Bella stared in astonishment as Tom laughed and bit her lip back.

 **So starting college has been exhausting and this is the first chance I've gotten to sit down and properly write. This Tomione has been sitting in my head for ages so I hope its ok and people enjoyed. I'll try to write more regularly but no promises as I have a lot of coursework :( Also I obviously don't own Harry Potter. I'm very grateful to JK Rowling for lending us these characters to play around with. Hope you's like my idea of their characters :)**

 **-Greyish Silver Skies.**


End file.
